


Drama Squad One-Shots

by TwoMoonsLite



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Delton & Valin & Rullan & Obrunn & Fiesta & Guxus & Florence, Delton/Valin, Drama Squad, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Obrunn/Rullan, i told yall i was going to do this eventually, series of One-shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoMoonsLite/pseuds/TwoMoonsLite
Summary: A series of one-shots for my DnD group, the Drama Squad. Featuring Rullan (half-elf, half-human paladin/fighter), Delton (earth genasi NPC fighter), Florence (human ranger), Obrunn (firbolg cleric), Fiesta (tiefling bard), Guxus (tiefling sorcerer), and Valin (drow rogue).Each chapter will be a separate one-shot written by me with permission of my other players (love you guys).
Relationships: Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s) & Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s), Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)/Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Drama Squad One-Shots

It was supposed to have been a good plan. The Wishbreaker-coated weapons they made at Ashra were the only way to defeat multiple Archangels at once, especially now that they had metal skin. With everyone armed and prepared, they managed to sneak close to the inner sanctum, where they had a chance of defeating Lord Highwing. It was a good plan.

And then it all went to shit.

They overwhelmed with sheer numbers. Even with mostly ranged attacks and three close-combat specialists, the small band couldn’t keep up with the hundreds of Archangel fighters. They separated them, and that was it.

Guxus was the first to fall. Out of spell slots, the sorcerer couldn’t keep up in a close-combat scenario. Ayda protected his fallen form for a while, but even she too was overwhelmed as the fight progressed.

The sisters Siesta and Fiesta managed to stay together, and to put up a fight. But somewhere mid-battle, they started to struggle to keep the horde of soldiers at bay. It wasn’t long after that that they fell as well. First, the eldest, and the younger bard not long after.

Delton, who had been somewhere near the middle of their sneaking pattern, ended up shoved to the far right. Surrounded, he pulled out all the stops and called upon knowledge of years he had tried to escape. When Valin finally made their way over to him, it looked like they might have actually had a chance to turn things around. But the loss of moral from half the party being taken out so quickly shook them both more than anyone realized. They lasted the longest and did the most damage, but the attitude change slowed them enough that they were stuck on defense.

The remaining three stayed somewhat close, or tried to. Florence was swept slightly just by the nature of her weapons. Eventually she ran out of arrows, and it was just a matter of time after that. Obrunn did his best to keep her standing, but he struggled himself. He and Rullan fought tooth and nail, but even the strongest of men exhaust after a while.

The booming crash of the Archangel fist landing the last punch on Rullan rung in everyone’s ears. Their final man collapsed to his knees, as a honeyed laugh rolled throughout the room. From their various points and with varying degrees of success, the Drama Squad turned to see their enemy himself emerge from a parting of the sea of lesser Archangels. The combination of his white suit and shining silver skin shown even among the other metal humanoids. “You all are either very, very stupid,” he says, staring at the three closest to the front of the crowd, “or you have a death wish. Did I not make clear that if you were to ever interfere with our business again that you would be slaughtered?”

“No,” Fiesta pipes from near the rear of the sanctum, “that was clear-”

“But we weren’t going to stand by while you take over the world,” finishes Valin.

Lord Highwing presses his fingers to his temples. “Death wish it is then. So what? You thought your little band of hooligans could actually take us down? We have Ascended. We are gods!”

“You are frauds!” Rullan growls, attempting to wrestle free of the Archangels’ grip.

Highwing grins, looking for all the world like the cat who ate the canary. “Frauds implies that we lied. We were quite truthful and transparent throughout this entire process.”

Siesta, from alongside her sister, shouts, “If you were really so truthful, you would have told everyone what you really did to the gods!”

Prowling closer, Highwing honeys, “Oh but we did. We disposed of them. Just like we will dispose of you.” With a turn, he gestures to his flock, “Kill them, all of them.”

The sanctum erupts in a cacophony as Archangels fight for the pleasure of killing the intruders, who reach for each other and their weapons. Ayda just barely manages to pull the sisters over to her, encasing the three tieflings and herself in her protective aura. Delton and Valin stand back to back, slowly trying to make their way to Florence. Obrunn tries to run for Rullan, shouting over the Archangels pushing him back.

Rullan closes his eyes when someone starts screaming. He feels the weight of the Warhammer in his hand, a symbol of the justice he once was worthy enough to hold. He hears the ripping of fabric and the palpable malevolence of the Archangel horde. He hears Fiesta crying, the clashing of metal on metal as the Drama Squad defends to their last. He opens his eyes just in time to see Obrunn take a punch to the face.

In all of it, Rullan sees the silver Cheshire cat, smug at the front of a shimmering secondary line, and something pulls a net tight across his heart. Mustering what little strength he has left, Rullan leans on the Warhammer’s grip and manages to stand. He picks it up in both hands and readies his stance.

“REN HIGHWING!” He announces, pointing the head of the Warhammer at the man.

Highwing turns, smile not fading. “You hero types just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Rullan steps forward, shouting, “My name is Rullan Elvenwood.”

A step forward. “You took my moms.”

Another step. “You took my brother.”

Another. “You took my god.”

One final step. “In the name of justice, with every last beat of my heart, I will not let you take my family from me again!”

Rullan swings the Warhammer with all he has. It connects, somehow, with Highwing’s jaw. The force sends him stumbling back, smug expression replaced with something furious.

“How dare you atta-” Highwing cuts himself off as he sees the metal dripping from his balled fist. In a panic, he raises his other hand. It too drips. “No, no. This can’t be happening.”

As more liquid sloughs off their leader’s face, the other Archangels’ coatings start to run as well. The liquid forms shining puddles throughout the sanctum. The noise starts again, but this time as the small band turns the tides. They manage to beat back most of the soldiers. With only Highwing and the elite left, they congregate, pushing the remaining false gods further and further into their now forfeit seat of power. Between the eight of them, they manage to destroy the last of the archangels, but only barely.

 _Barely is enough_ , Rullan thinks, watching his crew celebrate. _If barely keeps my family together, barely is enough._


End file.
